


Conversations at a Deathbed

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened during Cordelia's flight to Barrayar?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations at a Deathbed

“Sire.” Negri gave his usual half-bow and then approached the still figure on the bed. A hovering medic gave one last twitch to straighten a twisted tube, then scuttled out of the room.

“Well?” Ezar had little breath to waste on pleasantries. Not that he’d ever bothered with idle chat, but now he had an excuse. Add that to the list of advantages in this long dying. A ghost of a smile hovered on his drawn features.

“Our agents on Beta report that the Naismith woman – “ He still couldn’t use a military rank for a frill, “– arrived home on Beta. There was a formal reception with their planetary leader during which she exhibited some distress.”

“Oh?”

“She… er…” Negri almost smiled, practically an annual event, “The young woman seemed a little overwhelmed by it all. He gave her a medal. She kicked him in the balls.”

“Is that a Betan custom?”

“Not according to our agents.”

“Has she been executed?”

“They don’t do that on Beta. They’re giving her some kind of therapy.”

“Ah. Is she expected to survive it?”

Negri shrugged, “Apparently it really is therapy.” Both men were silent for a moment as they tried to absorb the concept. Anyone who’d reacted to Ezar in the way the Naismith woman had treated her leader would have had the life expectancy of a snowflake in a volcano. “What orders shall I give our agents there?”

Ezar frowned, “Damn Aral and his stupid romantic notions. If he decides to make a run for Beta…”

“He won’t get past the shuttle port, Sire.”

“I can force him to stay… I can’t force him to take the regency... Well, I can, but I need him heart and soul for that… And I’m afraid I’ve pushed him too far this time… I think Escobar broke him, he feels that his honour is gone… If he thinks he has nothing to lose he may decide to walk away and go after this frill…” He stopped, forced to paw at the breath-mask and gasp for air.

Negri waited, with the patience of mountains.

“Is the boy still trying to drink himself into oblivion?” Few people now alive could call Aral Vorkosigan a boy. But Ezar still remembered the shocked and brutalised eleven-year-old, deafened and bloodied after the massacre of his family. He’d watched for two years as the boy fought beside Ezar and Piotr, through that grim time that ended with Yuri screaming as his life was taken away one cut at a time. Good training for a Vor, the boy had turned out well. Except for a stiff-necked pride that had nearly brought him down time and again. Damn Vorkosigans, they were all the same: rock-solid loyalty, insubordinate as hell, brilliant military skills and stubborn as a Dendarii mule. They put him on the throne and were the foundation of his power, they were fanatical in supporting him as emperor and they’d call him a fool to his face without hesitation. He knew how valuable that was, surrounded as he was by fawning and flattering clowns. But sometimes they lacked a sense of timing. At least Piotr had political skill. The boy did too, but he was too contrary to use it. Yet. But he’d have to, soon.

“He’s on a three-day cycle right now; drunk, hangover, one sober day, then repeat. He’s crashed his flyer once already – my men are considering shooting him down if he tries to fly those gorges again.”

“Let him alone unless he’s about to kill himself or make a run for Beta. I’d rather he was well out of our current housecleaning.”

“And the frill?”

“He’ll never be any use to me while he’s heart-torn for her.”

Negri fixed his gaze on the wall above the Emperor’s head, “My agents could arrange something. Make it look like suicide – she’s shown herself to be unstable.”

The machines by the bed sounded louder as the men fell silent.

“That might be the simplest thing. Once she’s gone he’ll settle down again. I hope.”

Negri frowned, “But Illyan reports that he seems very attached to the woman. He proposed to her, after all. Possibly losing her would be the final straw for him?”

“Damn stubborn boy. Far too romantic… First the mess with that wife of his, what can you expect if you leave a young bride alone in the capital. Stash her down at that place in the country until she’s dropped a few sprogs, that’s what she’s for after all, he was a fool to leave her on her own in the city. Then that worse mess with Ges Vorrutyer – stupid young puppies, no sense of restraint.” He gave a grim smile, “Well, no sense, anyway.”

Negri waited, his expression neutral. He’d read the reports on Vorkosigan and Vorrutyer. At least Vorkosigan grew out of it, and was useful to the Empire. Vorrutyer…well, the only complaint he had about the man getting his throat slit was that it was a few decades too late.’

“That frill…” Ezar gasped for a moment, this conversation was burning up his energy, “We need her to stop being a problem. Options?”

Negri ran the list in his head, “Assassinate. That’s the simplest and most effective.”

“It would depress him more.”

“Have her repudiate him – send him a message that it’s irrevocably over between them.”

“That’d just send him after her even faster.”

“Not if she was married to someone else. One of our agents could attach her, they’d only need to stay married for a few months.” He thought for a moment, “We have some drugs from that source on Jackson’s Whole, used carefully they could alter her reality enough to persuade her into a relationship. Our information on her is that she’d like to have a child, that would certainly keep her interest focussed and away from Vorkosigan.”

“Risky.”

“One of our agents is experienced in such things. It’s a useful way to neutralise a female if assassination would cause problems.”

“But knowing she’s lost to him will just send him deeper into the bottle.”

Negri ran through the list in his head, “Bring her here. We could have a snatch team scoop her up and get her out of there, she’d be on a Barrayaran vessel and on her way before they knew she was missing.”

“We have enough problems with Beta at the moment.”

“She’s known to be unstable, they have no reason to suspect us.”

“They will when she turns up on Barrayar. Then we’d have them demanding her return, a huge diplomatic incident – he can’t be dealing with that as regent. And they’d never believe she wanted to be here, not if we kidnap her.”

Negri shrugged, “He can’t go there, we can’t bring her here, it has to be assassinate or seduce.”

“Fine. Run sim reports on each and on doing nothing, let me know what scores the best.” Ezar lay back, his energy spent.

Negri nodded and left the room, motioning for the medics to go back in.

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

“Well? I’ve waited long enough.”

Negri didn’t point out that two days was remarkably rapid for three full sims. “Yes Sire.”

“And?”

“Using JW drugs to enable our agent to seduce, marry and give her a child has an 82% chance of success.”

Ezar nodded tiredly, “And the boy’s reaction?”

“Fifty-fifty. Suicide or accepting the regency. He’s not easy to predict.”

“Assassination?”

“Same result, fifty-fifty. As I said, he’s not easy.”

“Doing nothing?”

“Twenty percent higher on suicide, twenty lower on taking the regency. He’s riding a strong death wish at the moment. Neutralising the Naismith woman increases his chances of survival, based on what we know right now.”

“Chances of assassination succeeding without suspicion falling on us?”

“Ninety-five percent.”

“And it’s faster.”

Negri waited. He’d do nothing without an express order, not for something this serious. A non-Barrayaran, on her home territory. And a frill.

Ezar glared at him and waited, then finally snarled, “Alright, if you insist on it, I’m issuing an official order. We request and require you to oversee the assassination of Cordelia Naismith. Make it look like a suicide.”

Negri nodded, his face blank. Loyalty means obedience, no matter what. Anyone can follow orders they like, that’s the easy part. Loyalty means following the orders that tear you apart inside.

Ezar reached for the breath mask again, “And Negri…tell them to make it fast. And painless. At least we can give her that much.”

Negri nodded again, and left without a word.

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

Ezar glanced up in surprise and waved the medics away. This wasn’t Negri’s normal time to report, and he hadn’t been summoned. He studied the man carefully, Negri was as blank as ever, but long experience told Ezar that there was some strong emotion behind that calm exterior. “Did you send the order on Naismith?” It was too early for kill confirmation yet, but the order should have arrived on Beta.

“Yes Sire. But there’s news, a report from one of our agents is just in, it was sent before the order arrived.”

“And? Has she saved us the trouble?”

“She’s gone.”

Ezar waited, knowing there was more.

“She attacked her therapist, nearly drowned the woman apparently, then – vanished.”

“Walked out onto the surface to die? Or did they hide her away somewhere?” Ezar seemed almost happy now, even one less death on his shoulders made some difference.

“It seems genuine. She attacked the woman and then fled.”

“So she’ll be finished now, if they catch her.” Ezar nodded in satisfaction.

Negri grimaced at the thought of the Betan system, “Even now, if they find her she’ll just get more therapy.”

“Their therapists must be a self-sacrificing group. We could do with them for weapons testing,” Negri didn’t attempt a smile. Ezar never expected him to pretend to laugh at Imperial jokes. One more good reason for giving him total loyalty. “Find her. Before they do.”

“And the kill order?”

“Still running.”

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

The medics were gone, the room quiet in the thin afternoon sun.

“Is it done?”

“Not yet, Sire. But we know where she is.”

Ezar waited. Asking took breath he didn’t want to waste.

“Sire, she’s on Escobar. She stowed away on a freighter.” Negri didn’t pause, he had no idea of dramatic impact, “And she’s asking about ships heading to Barrayar. They’re letting some freighters through now, she’s asking if any of them need crew, or will take passengers.”

Ezar sighed, letting go of some tension, “She’s coming to him. Of her own free will…this couldn’t be better.” He inhaled through the breath mask for a few moments, “Cancel the termination order.”

Negri looked grave, “That’s the problem, Sire. Our intelligence network on Beta has been blown. Most of our agents are taken.”

“Most?”

“Several of our agents – we don’t know how many yet – have escaped. I’ve had a confirmation message from one of them, there’s at least three who evaded Betan security.”

“Recall them. Then activate the sleeper network.”

“I can’t recall them, Sire, they’ve all gone underground. Standard procedure. And they’re carrying out their last order.”

“Naismith?” Ezar was tense again.

“They’re hunting her down, Sire. They’ll be on Escobar by now. Of course, she could already have moved on.”

“Put out a recall through all channels, they may report in and pick it up. And put a general order to all your personnel in the Hub. Naismith is to be protected at all costs. Put a ring around her, whatever it takes. Get her to Barrayar whole and healthy.”

“And unaware?”

“Yes. If Aral thinks I have a hand in this he’ll do something stupid just to be contrary.”

“Yes, Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

Ezar looked at him eagerly, “Well?”

“She’s heading in to Komarr, Sire.”

“No trouble?”

“It was close.” He almost shuddered at the thought of how close it had been. Five, even three, minutes the other way and… but it had worked out fine. This time.

“Make sure things are ready here. How are you getting her to him? He’s still at Vorkosigan Surleau, isn’t he?”

“We’ll intercept any vid calls she makes, one of our operatives will pretend to be house staff and give her directions to find him.” A total flouting of all security rules – no Vorkosigan staffer would ever give out such information. But she wouldn’t know that, coming from safe, friendly Beta.

“Will she manage on her own?” A woman alone, Ezar frowned at the thought of it.

“She got herself halfway across the galaxy. She’s a very resourceful and determined woman.” Negri recalled the report about the therapist Naismith had questioned and neutralised before she escaped. It seemed that the woman would fit in well on Barrayar after all.

“Fine. Get on with it.” Ezar was suddenly tired, his small fund of energy didn’t last long each day.

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

Ezar opened his eyes, he didn’t bother speaking.

“She’s here. In Vorbar Sultana.”

“What’s she doing?”

“She tried to get in touch with Vorkosigan, our operative gave her the directions. She’s hired a lightflyer – fortunately one of our people got to the office in time to make sure she was given one. Now… now she’s shopping. For clothes, apparently.” It was reassuring to know that this frighteningly efficient Amazon was still just a frill in some ways.

“Keep the surveillance going.”

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

“Mmm?”

“She’s there. With him.”

“Good. It’s time he stopped wallowing in depression. He can’t afford that self-indulgence.”

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

“Well?”

“Vorkosigan and Naismith were married this morning.”

“Excellent. Now the boy can get over all this and get back to work. I’ll need him soon.”

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sire.”

“What is it?”

“Vorkosigan is here, Sire, in the Residence.”

“Is she with him?”

“Yes Sire.”

Ezar closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength. “Tell the servants to send them in. I won’t need you to stay for this.”

“Yes Sire.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

The door opened, and Emperor Ezar Vorbarra looked up to see the woman he’d so nearly terminated.

The woman who would save his empire.


End file.
